


Highway Don't Care

by AintNobodysBitch



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 12:48:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AintNobodysBitch/pseuds/AintNobodysBitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The highway won't dry your tears</p><p>The highway don't need you here</p><p>The highway don't care if you're coming home</p><p>But I do, I do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Highway Don't Care

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sladeninstitute](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sladeninstitute/gifts).



 

_"Bones, I-"_

 

 _"You what, Jim? You what? You're sorry?" Bones's laugh was harsh, cold. Completely different than the warm laugh that Jim normally got from him. "Oh yeah, because I haven't heard_ that  _before. I'm sorry, Bones. It won't happen again, Bones. If I say I love you everything will be better, Bones. That's not how this works, Jim."_

 

_"Maybe if you'd take your head out of your ass and start fucking listening to me, we wouldn't be here right now." Jim regretted that as soon as he said it, but he wasn't about to back down. Not yet._

 

 _"Oh so this is all my fault?" Bones's glare could have cut fucking diamonds. "Sure, let's blame Bones. Good ole' Dr. McCoy. How_ dare  _he be the only one who tries in this relationship. How dare he give a damn about you. How fucking dare he deal with all your fucking shit." Bones looked as shocked as Jim felt at the last part. “Jim, wait-” Bones’s tone had changed completely, but it was too fucking late. He had seen Jim’s heartbreak on his face, and they both knew he couldn’t fix it._

 

_Jim was off the examination table in an instant, grabbing his phone and wallet and stuffing them into his pocket. “I’m done.” He pushed his way past Bones, ignoring the pained expression on Bones’s face, focusing instead on his own hurt and anger.”You should be happy, Dr. McCoy. You won’t have to deal with my fucking shit anymore.” The door slammed behind him, and he pretended like he didn’t hear Bones brokenly calling his name. Jim was done. Bones could find someone else to warm his bed._

 

_It had only taken Jim an hour to pack everything he wanted to take with him. He hadn’t owned that much to begin with, and everything he’d gotten in the past few years he’d gotten with Bones. He didn’t feel like bringing all the memories with him. He’d let Bones keep that. He owed him that much._

 

_The duffel bag with all of his shit (mostly shirts and books) was sitting in the passenger seat of his car, and Jim was doing his best to put Bumfuck, Georgia behind him. He’d broken all the speed limits between Macon and Atlanta, and it was a small miracle that he hadn’t been pulled over yet. He’d just crossed the state line, speeding into South Carolina when his phone started ringing._

 

_‘Cause even when I dream of you  
_

 

_The sweetest dream will never do  
_

 

_I'd still miss you babe  
_

 

_And I don't want to miss a thing_

 

_“Really?” Bones had looked up at him with a smile, the complete cheesiness of the song Jim had picked for his ringtone too much for him. “That’s what you picked?”_

_“First off, fuck you, that’s Aerosmith.” Jim had laughed, putting a hand on Bones’s cheek and pulling him in for a kiss before answering. “Second off, yeah. That’s what I picked.” Before Bones had a chance to continue picking on him, Jim continued. “It’s true, though, because sometimes I dream about you, and I know I’m dreaming, and it doesn’t matter how great and awesome my dreams are, they’ve got nothing on the real you. You’re so much better than anything my subconscious can ever hope to design, Bones, and it doesn’t matter how sweet my dreams about you are. They’ve got nothing on-“ Jim didn’t get a chance to finish. Bones had him pushed back against the headboard, his arms wrapping around Jim’s shoulders as he licked his way into Jim’s mouth._

_“You’re cheesy as fuck,” Bones gasped when he pulled back, grinning against Jim’s lips. “But I love you.”_

Jim ignored his phone. He didn’t want to talk to Bones. His voicemail ( _This is James Tiberius Kirk, please leave a message after the beep. Unless you’re Leonard McCoy, in which case you can go fuck yourself_ ) was a testament to this. Their relationship had already been deteriorating, and being the stubborn fucks they were, they would resort to having loud and not particularly gentle sex as a way of settling their arguments. Neither one would talk about what was bothering them. Jim refused to tell Bones just how afraid he was of losing him, and Bones… well, obviously Bones had been getting tired of dealing with Jim and his shit.

Not that that was a problem anymore. 

“Fuck,” Jim hissed, the tears that came out of fucking left field threatening his vision and causing him to swerve slightly into the other lane. “Fuck fuck fuck.” Jim turned his blinker on, pulling into the nearest rest stop he could find. He spun his car into a parking spot, grabbing his phone from the passenger seat before taking it and all but running into the bathroom, the need to be outside of his car, that car, the car that he and Bones had made love in before, was too overwhelming. Tears were sliding down his cheeks by the time he made it to the bathroom, but he didn’t care, running into one of the stalls and slamming the door shut before leaning against the wall.

_Bones:_

_Voicemail (4)_

_Bones:_

_Text Message (3)_

_ Bones: _

_Jim, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll be off work in a few minutes, and I’m coming straight home. Please, Jim, please forgive me._

_ Bones:  _

_Jim, where are you? Half of your stuff is missing and I’ve called everyone, and no one has seen you. Please, Jim, please come home. You don’t have to stay but fuck Jim, I need to talk to you. Please, Jim. Come home._

_ Bones: _

_I need you._

Jim slammed his fist against the door, ignoring the indignant shout of the man on the other side of the stall. He wasn’t angry anymore, just hurt, and he was beginning to feel like he’d made a mistake. He should have talked to Bones. He should have sat down with him and talked. He shouldn’t have packed all of his shit and left, but that was what Jim Kirk was good at. He didn’t confront his problems, he packed them up and acted like they never happened. That was what he was planning on doing with Bones. That was what he was determined he was going to do with Bones. He was just going to act like the years he’d spent with Bones, the five years they’d been _together_ and the seven years that they’d been friends, had never happened. Because that was what Jim Kirk did. That was what Jim Kirk was going to do with Bones.

He looked down at his phone before a minute, the four voicemail notifications blinking at him. “I’ll keep going north,” he decided, shoving his phone back in his pocket, walking out of the bathroom and taking a minute to compose himself. His eyes were bright and red rimmed, but a few handfuls of cold water and a few seconds of hard scrubbing with his palms dealt with that. Before long he looked almost normal, and he gave himself a curt nod in the mirror before managing a calm, composed walk back to his car. 

It wasn’t long before he was back on the interstate, his window rolled down and his air turned off, the cold air hitting his face doing wonders for his spirit. For twenty miles he managed to convince himself that he didn’t want to hear what Bones had to say. For fifteen miles he told himself that he wasn’t going to listen to what Bones had to say. It took him three eighths of a mile to have his phone open, all of Bones’s voicemails on speaker.

“You have four new voicemails,” the automated voice rose above the wind coming in from his window, and Jim rolled it up without a second thought. “First new message.” 

“Cute voicemail, kid.” There was no amusement in Bones’s voice. “I’m sorry about what I said, Jim. I didn’t mean it. You know I didn’t. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m so fucking sorry.” Jim felt his resolve weaken with every pain-filled word Bones spoke, and he bit down on his lip to hold back his cry of anger.  “I spoke without thinking, like I always do, and I didn’t mean it. I’ll be home soon, okay? Can we-can we just talk about this when I get home? You can be mad at me. You have every right to be mad at me. Just- just talk to me when I get home.” The message ended with a quiet beep, and Jim hated himself for the pain he could hear in Bones’s voice. He hated the way Bones’s voice sounded so small, so scared. He hated the fact that he was halfway through South Carolina, and a good five hours away from their house.

“Second new message.”

"Where are you?" Bones sounded panicked. "Your duffel bag is gone, and so are your clothes, and I called everyone and you're not with them, and-" Jim could tell when the realization of what he'd done hit Bones. "Jim," Bones was holding back tears. Jim had always known when Bones was holding back tears, but normally he was there to talk him through them, to kiss them away as they fell down his cheeks. He had never been the cause of Bones's tears before, and he didn't like it. "Jim, please stop. Stop driving. You don't have to turn around, but please, _please_ , stop driving. Call me and I'll be wherever you are as soon as I can." Bones stopped, and the car was suddenly too quiet for Jim's comfort. He could tell Bones was working up the courage to say something, but he didn't know what. "Jim, I love you. Please forgive me... Please don't leave."

Jim had to pull over. He was sitting on the side of the road with his emergency lights on, tears streaming down his cheeks. He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up big time. But there was still time to fix everything. He was going to fix everything.

But first he was going to finish the voicemails. 

“Third new message.”

“I don’t know if you’re getting these or not. Hell, I don’t know if you care enough about me to check these.” Bones’s voice was raw, the raw that came from crying angry, wounded tears. “I hate this, Jim. I know our relationship has been strained lately, but dammit kid I still love you. I was just so damn scared you were going to find someone better, someone who wasn’t as old or bitter. I was scared you were going to find someone who hadn’t already been married and wasn’t so damn angry about marriage.” Bones let out a pained breath, and Jim bit back a sob.  “I was scared you weren’t going to love me anymore.” There was static as neither man dared to take a breath, and then a sudden exhale as Jim burst into tears. “Jim, I still love you. When- _if-_ ” Bones’s correction had both of them crying. “ _If_ you want to come back to me, I’ll be waiting for you. Take-take care, Jim.” 

“Fourth new message.”

“Jim, darlin’,” Jim couldn’t stop his tears. He didn’t want to, not anymore. “This is my last call, I promise. I just needed you to know that… that I need you. I can’t live without you, Jim. You may be able to live without me, darlin’, but I can’t live without you. I don’t want to.” Bones laughed, and it was sad and hurt, and Jim hated it. He should be there to make Bones better when he hurt, to hold him when he cried. He shouldn’t be the one who caused his pain. “Listen to me, sounding like a damn fool. I’ll be here if you need me, Jim. Your side of the bed will always be open. Just…take care of yourself, okay? For me. Take care of yourself, baby.” 

Jim sat in his car, hunched over his steering wheel for a good thirty minutes. He sobbed and he cursed and he screamed and he hated himself, but more than that, he knew what he was going to do. He knew what he _had_ to do.

He broke four different laws to get onto the other side of the interstate, the side that led back to Georgia. He broke about fifty different speed limits in just as many towns before he was back in Atlanta. He made it back to his house at one in the morning, sliding into the driveway and slamming his hand down on the horn, barely taking the time to put his car in park and turn it off before running to the door. The horn had had the desired effect, and it wasn't long before a disgruntled, ragged looking Bones came down to open the door, his confusion fading when he saw who had caused the disturbance. "Jim?"

"We can talk about this later," Jim flung the door open, pulling Bones out on the porch and refusing to let him go. "I fucked up, Bones, and I know I did, and I'm so sorry for what I did to you. But I can't live without you, Bones." He was scared that he'd fucked up beyond all repair for a few terrifying seconds. Bones wasn't answering him. He was holding Bones, and Bones wasn't- 

"You're a fucking idiot," Bones's arms tightened around Jim, his words a sob and an insult. He held Jim close for a few minutes, trying to grasp the fact that Jim was there, Jim was real. Jim hadn't left him. "Darlin'," he pulled back, looking Jim in the eye before giving in to the overwhelming urge to kiss him. "Darlin', I'm so glad you're home."

"Me too, Bones," Jim half laughed half sobbed into Bones shoulder, refusing to let him go. "Me too."

 

 


End file.
